


ghost waltz

by racooninnit



Series: mental illness is just another form of creative writing [14]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Ballroom Dancing, Child Murder, Crying, Dancing, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Fluff and Angst, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Wilbur Soot, Guilt, It's vaguely mentioned the way tommy died, Light Angst, Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Murder, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Piano, Protective Wilbur Soot, So yeah, Soft TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Younger Sibling TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), sam and tommy don't even talk but there is implied awesamdad so yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racooninnit/pseuds/racooninnit
Summary: it's about tommy and wilbur seeing each other in the afterlife and then it gets kinda weird, don't ask me, i don't know how i came up with it. the main thing that inspired me to write this was merry-go-round of life from howl's moving castle, so if you want the full experience, listen to it while reading.and thank you to ellie for beta reading this that is very swag of you
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Sam | Awesamdude & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: mental illness is just another form of creative writing [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104359
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	ghost waltz

wilbur wakes to the sound of soft piano echoing through the afterlife. he doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does he remember a piano being here, but apparently he did, and apparently there is. 

so he stands, wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to find the source of the music. his heart drops at the sight he’s met with. 

there, sat on the bench at the piano, is tommy. tommy, with blood caked in his hair and dripping down his face. tommy, who’s currently staining the pristine white of the piano keys with red ugly fingerprints. tommy, who’s playing mellohi without a care in the world.

tommy, who hasn’t yet noticed his older brother standing behind him.

and then suddenly, the scene shifts. they’re both standing on the glass that encases the crater left behind by doomsday. tommy stands before wilbur, his translucent form occasionally wavering. he bears a sad smile, a knowing smile.

the piano is still playing. wordlessly, wilbur steps forward, extending his hand to the younger boy. tommy takes it, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around wilbur’s neck. wilbur lowers his hands to tommy’s waist. there’s a moment of silence, and then the piano starts up again, now a different song. a song from their childhood, one wilbur taught tommy when he was a small boy.

they start to dance with the music, in a display of grace and serenity that they never had while among the living. they move effortlessly, fluidly, never tripping on each other’s feet the way they once had.

they are both smiling, though tears drip down their faces all the same. it is bittersweet, part doused in the joy of reuniting at long last, and part drenched in the sorrow of death. 

tommy hums along to the music, and wilbur finds himself doing the same. the song never seems to end, and so they continue to dance, never once falling out of rhythm or misstepping. 

idly, wilbur notices people gathering near them, but he pays it no mind. all that matters now is tommy. he has his sweet baby brother back, and nothing is going to stop him from giving this boy all the love and affection he deserves after being put through hell and back.

so people watch as the two dance, and dance, and dance. nobody says anything, afraid to disrupt the peace the two finally have. until tubbo steps forward, staring ahead at the two and fidgeting nervously.

“can i…?” he starts, looking to wilbur as if for permission. he looks at tubbo, and then over at tommy, who seems to be ecstatic, shaking his head yes and giving wilbur puppy eyes. so the oldest sighs and smiles fondly, turning back to tubbo and nodding. 

immediately tommy steps forward and grabs tubbo’s hand in what can only be described as childlike excitement, tugging the other away and laughing when he yelped. “c’mon tubzo, dance with me you clingy bitch!”

both boys laugh despite the tears in their eyes, moving wildly as the music shifts to something more upbeat. tommy lacks his poise and elegance from moments before, but he makes up for it in spirit, giggling and shrieking with his friend as if nothing’s out of the ordinary.

wilbur resigns himself to watching the two, smiling as his boy, his brother, his _baby_ , finally gets to be a kid again. and then his attention is taken away from him when another person steps before him. sam.

“um… hi, wilbur.” he sounds oddly timid and nothing like the man wilbur knew him to be. (granted, he mostly knew him from what he saw as ghostbur and what he observed in the afterlife, but his point still stands.)

“sam.” he greets coldly, resisting the urge to glare and scream at this man for leaving tommy in that stupid fucking prison cell with dream. in fact, he wants to scream at most of the people on this server for a multitude of reasons, but instead, he refrains. if this is the only time he’s going to get to see the smp again ( _unless he gets revived_ his mind supplies, and the thought runs a chill through his body) then he doesn’t want it to be yelling at almost everybody he’s ever known

“i-i… i’m so sorry i kept him in there. i should have taken him out, i should have done something, this is my fault, i-“ wilbur cuts him off with a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“sam, listen. you did fuck up, and you’re not forgiven for that, but this isn’t _all_ your fault, so don’t blame yourself.” as much as he wants to, he can’t bring himself to be harsh. not when he can see how sam is so clearly tired through his body language alone. 

“thank you,” sam breathes softly, and wilbur gives him a bitter smile before looking back at tommy and tubbo. taking in his little brother’s translucent form and what that means for the future.

“he’s so _young_ , sam. he doesn’t deserve this. he- he shouldn’t be dead.” sam nods solemnly, but he doesn't apologize again. “he shouldn’t have died the way he did. if i _ever_ see dream again i’ll strangle him with my bare fucking hands.” wilbur pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, unclenches his jaw, and lets his shoulders sag.

“and sam?”

“yes?”

“thank you for taking care of my boy when i couldn’t.”

sam nods. wilbur sighs. his gaze remains on tommy, who’s currently shouting at tubbo with glee written across his face. wilbur’s expression melts into something kinder.

he steps forward in long strides, walking over to the two young boys standing ahead of him. he places a hand on tommy’s shoulder, and the blonde turns to him with a knowing look, the same he adorned before they began their waltz.

“do we really have to go? we just got here,” he whines, and wilbur nods.

“i know, bubs, i know. i wish we could stay longer, but it’s our time.”

“can i at least say goodbye to tubbo?”

wilbur nods.

“of course, just don’t take too long.”

tommy pivots on his foot and is immediately crashed into by tubbo, who hugs him with so much force that tommy wheezes.

“c-christ, tubbo! warn a guy before you tackle him!”

tubbo laughs, muffled against tommy’s chest. it’s obvious that he’s crying, but neither comment on it. eventually, far too soon, tommy pulls away. his form is fading, as is wilbur’s. they won’t be here much longer.

“goodbye, big man. tell sam nook i won’t be back for me, yeah? oh, and tell ranboo i like his flowers! but don’t tell anyone else i said that, if anyone else asks i am a very masculine man who has never seen a flower and does not know what that is.”

tubbo nods, laughs, and attempts to wipe his tears out of his eyes. it’s futile, but he tries anyway. tommy frowns at that.

“don’t cry tubbo, i know i’m very amazing and you’re going to miss me because you’re clingy, but please don’t cry.” his own voice wobbles as he speaks, and wilbur knows he’s holding back tears. but it gets tubbo to laugh, and both boys smile at each other.

“goodbye, tommy.”

“goodbye, tubbo.”

and just like that, tommy and wilbur flicker away, and tubbo is left only with warmth in his chest, and faint notes of a piano slowly fading.

**Author's Note:**

> twt is @racooninnit if you'd like to yell at me there. also this should go without saying but because some people can't get it through their thick skulls, EVERYTHING IN HERE IS PLATONIC, THERE ARE NO ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS
> 
> and also this was inspired by the danse macabre as well lol


End file.
